


I am Here

by Oroburos



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Blind Character, Blindness, Deaf, Default Shepard, Destroy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, what is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oroburos/pseuds/Oroburos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s after the End. They’ve won. Earth is saved (barely). Shepard, miraculously, survives. But not intact"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted as a series of short drabbles on Tumblr, started long before I had *actually* played the games. Call it some form of AU.)

When he first wakes he cannot see or hear, and when he tries to speak it catches on _pain_. He flinches, he can’t. But he feels the hand that grips his hand so tight it nearly breaks the bones. He knows their shape, that pattern of callouses. _'Kaidan',_ Shepard mouths his name. He wants to follow the hand that’s crushing his, up the arm, wants to find Kaidan’s face and know he’s alright, but he can’t raise his arm. He can’t move, he can’t see, and the roaring of his own blood in his ears drowns out every other sound.

 

Three weeks later, his voice is a rasping whisper. He can tell light from dark, and his ears have been ringing. The doctors say that might be good—at least, he thinks that’s what they say. Kaidan traces letters slowly in his hand, spelling words. It’s infuriatingly slow, but it’s communication. It’s something.

 

At night they curl close together, and Kaidan holds him so tightly it almost hurts.

 

* * *

 

"Is this okay?" Shepard asks into the dark, silent world.  
  
The weight that is Kaidan settles somewhere down near his legs. A calloused fingertip traces ‘ _yes_ ' on Shepard's hip. He runs his hand slow, slow, down the bed sheet, until he finds skin. He follows it up, over muscles that twitch slightly at his ticklish-light touch, up and over a shoulder, to the back of Kaidan's neck. Leverage. He shifts his other hand down to push himself up towards sitting.  
  
A hand splayed across his chest pushes him gently back down. “Hey…” he complains. Kaidan takes John’s hand from the back of his neck, moves it up to cup his cheek (John can feel the couple-of-days growth on Kaidan’s face), and shakes his head back and forth, ‘ _no_ ’.  
  
The savior of the entire galaxy pouts.  
  
He can feel the corner of Kaidan’s mouth pull up at the base of his palm. He glides his hand slightly back, traces the curve of Kaidan’s earlobe with his thumb. The movement makes his hand pull away very slightly, and Kaidan leans back into it, reaffirming the contact.  
  
"K…" John whispers, and isn’t sure if he even voiced it, chest and throat too tight with emotion to feel his vocal cords vibrating properly.  
  
Kaidan’s weight shifts, and settles over Shepard’s legs. They are skin to skin, no clothing, no barriers to each-other’s touch. Touch is all they have, now. John slides his hands up and over Kaidan’s body to meet each-other on his partner’s torso. He feels Kaidan’s chest rise and fall with his breath. He wishes he could see him. He misses the color of his eyes.  
  
Kaidan’s hands settle over his a moment, before running down John’s arms. He leans downward, slowly, and John can only wait. He feels hyper-aware of the fact that Kaidan’s legs are hairy, and he can feel that hair, tickling his sides. Kaidan’s knees are folded on either side of Shepard’s body and John’s hands slide down and run over K’s thighs. Kaidan always had great thighs, John thinks.  
  
Lips press against his, and when he leans up into them John closes his eyes, even though it makes no difference.  
  
Kaidan traces ‘ _I love you_ ' against the back of John's neck. John cleaves his body up against Kaidan's, and whispers it back against his lips.

 

* * *

 

Walking is harder than he remembered.   
  
Of course, it would help if he could see.   
  
He’d never thought about how much _being able to see where you’re going_ was a factor in a simple thing like walking around a room. He was getting better, though. He could almost-nearly-kind-of feel a change in the air right before he ran into a wall. Or maybe he was just getting used to the dimensions of the room.   
  
Kaidan was an almost-constant presence. John was a little worried about it, actually. He’d asked him, “Don’t you have better things to do than babysit me? Duties? Planets to rebuild?” But K’d only put John’s hand on his face and shook his head ‘ _no_ ’. It was frustrating how nobody gave him any straight answers anymore.

  
Kaidan was getting better at writing to him, and John was getting better at understanding him. Which was good, because it meant the doctors could poke at him properly with K translating things like ‘ _lift arm R_ ' and _'turn head L_ ’, ‘ _feel this_?’, ‘ _see light_?’.   
  
And he could have visitors. Just friends, people that were trusted. Well, people that Kaidan trusted. John still didn’t have much say in… anything, really. It was driving him crazy.   
  
The first couple of times were awkward. People had to be coaxed into touching him, gripping his shoulder so he knew they were there. They didn’t understand—K would translate what they said, sure, but unless he could _feel_ them, it didn’t feel like they were really there. John wanted to know they were alright, _really_ alright. That nobody was dead and they just hadn’t told him.   
  
He tries talking to Kaidan about it, one night. Tries to express his frustration.   
  
"I feel fucking useless," he says. Kaidan is holding him, because that’s what he does now. John doesn’t mind. He likes to lay his cheek on Kaidan’s neck and feel his heartbeat. Sometimes Kaidan will hum, or something, and John can feel his voicebox vibrating and it’s almost like hearing his voice. Almost.   
  
K doesn’t answer him. So John says it again, making sure he can feel himself voicing it, “I feel USELESS. I hate it!”   
  
K shakes his head.   
  
"Stop coddling me," John growls. "Dammit, talk to me! Tell me what’s happened, whats been happening. Just…. just talk to me. Anything."   
  
Kaidan stiffens, holds John tighter. John feels him swallow. Why? He slides his hand up Kaidan’s body to touch K’s face, brush his cheek. Kaidan leans into his touch, automatic. John feels the biotic’s eyes pinched closed, his jaw clenched.   
  
K is hurting. _Kaidan is hurting_. John sits up straighter, grabs him, pulls K into _his_ arms. He doesn’t ask why. It doesn’t matter why, not right now. Kaidan buries his face into John’s chest. John feels him start to shake, and all he can do is hold him. So he does, he holds his partner and murmurs quiet things. “It’s okay… it’s alright, K, I’m _here_. It’s okay…”   
  
Even though it isn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter is NSFW)

_'we thought you died.'_  
  
_'again'_  
  
Kaidan traces letters slowly into Shepard’s hand, building words, finally telling him what happened and how they found him.  
  
_'lost you at the beam. all gone. destroyed.'_  
  
_'one last comm sweep. Joker found you.'_  
  
He can feel K’s hands shaking at the memory. He can’t imagine what it must have felt like. He reaches up his free hand and grips Kaidan’s forearm tight. “I’m here, K,” he says, because he feels like maybe Kaidan needs to hear it. “I’m alive.”  
  
The curve of Kaidan’s forehead touches John’s, and he can sense that Kaidan’s staring at his eyes. He tries, _tries_ to move muscles that won’t work, focus a gaze he doesn’t have anymore. He wants to give Kaidan eye contact, even though he can’t see anymore, and he’s trying, but he can’t feel anything respond the way he wants.  
  
K’s fingertips are suddenly on John’s eyebrow, and they brush downward slowly. When they touch his eyelid, feather light, John understands what he’s after and closes his eyes. Kaidan’s head moves, shifts right, closes the distance. John can feel the skin of Kaidan’s face pressed against his own, left side to right side. Kaidan’s breath on his jawline. A bushy eyebrow and a nasal bridge. The tickle of eyelashes against his own closed eyelids.  
  
Contact. Almost.  
  
_'you were barely breathing'_   Kaidan takes up writing again. _'lost so much blood. burned.'_  
  
His grip on John’s wrist tightens, stays tight. _'nearly lost you again. so many times.'_  
  
_'when you woke I'_  
  
At the end of the _I_ Kaidan’s fingertip presses down. Stays there. Curls, and there’s knuckles in John’s palm as Kaidan draws his hand in. John curls his own fingers in and grips at Kaidan’s, solid. K grips back, clinging.  
  
His face is pinching. John shifts his own up, ghosting his lips over Kaidan’s cheek, presses them gently against his eyelid. He tastes, very slightly, of salt.

 

* * *

 

_'you sure?'_   Kaidan traced onto the side of Shepard’s face.  
  
He was leaned over Shepard, braced on a forearm, and Shepard’s hands were fisted in his shirt, trying to focus eyes that wouldn’t work onto him and, god, it still hurt so much to see him like this. “Come on, K,” he said, “It’s been two _months_.”   
  
Kaidan had to laugh at that. It had been longer than two months, but Shepard wasn’t so good at counting time anymore. Not since…and then he had to crawl up onto the bed and pull Shepard into his arms, just to remind himself that he was _there_.   
  
"K?" Shepard said, worriedly, "Kaidan, I’m fine…" His hand was running up Kaidan’s arm, and he intercepted it to take Shepard’s hand.  
  
_'not want to hurt you'_ , he wrote into the palm.  
  
"You won’t hurt me, Kaidan," Shepard smiled, "I trust you."

Well, that was nice, but Kaidan wasn’t sure he trusted _himself_. Shepard was still healing, still weak—he could barely walk for long without wearing out, let alone anything more strenuous. And what John was asking for definitely fell under the heading _strenuous_.  


But… it _had_ been a long time.

 

  
  
They helped each-other strip their clothing — well, Kaidan helped, Shepard tried. And then Kaidan sat and stared down at the man who’d saved the entire galaxy, the one who’d beaten every odd to even _be_ there, weak as he was, still breathing on that bed. The man who had let Kaidan into his life, and who Kaidan had fallen so completely for his gut still twisted when their eyes locked.  
  
…Well. It used to. His gut still wrenched when he looked at Shepard, but for a whole different reason, now.  
  
Shepard’s hand was creeping over the bedspread, and found Kaidan’s arm. He let Shepard’s touch roam over him, let him learn to see with his hands. They’d have to learn new ways to communicate, new signals. Once Shepard was better. Once he could stand on his own again. And he would, Kaidan _knew_ he would. Eventually.  
  
Shepard gripped Kaidan’s arm and pulled, “Come on, Kaidan,” he said, “at least let me touch you… please…”  
  
"You’re so stubborn…" Kaidan muttered, knowing Shepard couldn’t hear him. But the look he got on his face when Kaidan lifted him up—and he felt so light, so terrifyingly fragile—and let him climb onto his lap made all of Kaidan’s protests die in his throat. Shepard _needed_ this. And as he pushed himself up against Kaidan to get as much physical contact as possible, Kaidan suddenly realized why.  
  
Touch was all that Shepard had, now. He had to feel you to know you were there, and that was what this was about. Not just urges—well, not entirely—but it was him wanting to know that Kaidan was _there_ , that he was there, that they were both _alive_ and _okay_ and still with each-other.  
  
Kaidan felt like he was going to fall apart again.  
  
Thankfully, Shepard still knew just how to distract him.  
  
Shepard’s hand moved between them, threaded through the hair on Kaidan’s chest, and lower. He found his length, and Kaidan shivered—it had been a _long_ time—, and then Shepard wrapped his hand around it and his thumb settled _just right_ below the head, and Kaidan couldn’t keep in the quiet groan.  
  
His own hands slid down Shepard’s back, tracing the curve of his spine. A thrill ran through him at Shepard’s hitched inbreath, at the way his hips arced and ground them together. Shepard caught them both and jacked them off together, the friction encouraging them to rock together. Kaidan pressed his face against the side of Shepard’s and breathed, hot, across his cheek.  
  
Shepard’s hand—the one not gripping Kaidan’s cock like it belonged there—slid over to Kaidan’s neck and pressed lightly against his throat. That confused him for a moment, until he realized that Shepard wanted to ‘hear’ him. He hummed a little, making his vocal cords vibrate, and won himself a smile from his partner.  
  
New signals.  
  
Kaidan took a moment to slick his fingers with something from the side-table, then slid them back, down past the base of Shepard’s spine, felt him tense in anticipation. “Sshh,” Kaidan soothed, without thinking about it. He realized his mistake, and pressed a kiss against Shepard’s temple, hoping that would have the same effect. It did, and as soon as Shepard relaxed, Kaidan pushed a finger right inside him.  
  
Shepard _whimpered_. Kaidan froze, afraid he’d hurt him. But Shepard hadn’t stopped stroking them together, gripping just like they’d never been apart, and after a moment he whispered, “Come on…”  
  
Kaidan smiled, keeping his lips pressed up against his partner’s face so he could feel it. He crooked his finger inside, stroked it in and out. Shepard groaned, and it was the most amazing noise Kaidan had ever heard.  
  
Soon he had two fingers in, and Shepard was stroking their cocks together in time with those movements. He was gripping Kaidan’s shoulder and had his forehead pressed up in Kaidan’s neck, groaning. Every time he’d tense up and go tight around Kaidan’s digits, Kaidan would just push them in harder. He was starting to shake, and Kaidan took his free hand up to Shepard’s shoulder and traced a question mark on his skin. He had to repeat it, when Shepard didn’t respond. _'ok?'_  
  
"Y-yeah.." Shepard gasped out, breath hitching. "I… God, you’re hard, Kaidan…"  
  
Kaidan chuckled. He slid his fingers out and lifted Shepard up, gently lay him down on his back. Shepard clung to him, tight, arms and legs around Kaidan like he was afraid to break contact. “I’m not going anywhere, John…” Kaidan whispered, and one hand gripped at Shepard’s hip, and then wrote out _'here i am here i am here'_ over his stomach.  
  
"I know," Shepard breathed, and Kaidan kissed him. Kissed him fierce, like he was drowning. Shepard’s hands found his hair and gripped into it, keeping them together. And Kaidan reached down, and moved, and pushed himself inside of Shepard— _John_. And the pressure and the heat and _John’s_ hitched cry of _relief_ nearly undid him right there.  
  
He held a moment, letting John adjust, pressing kisses against his forehead while John’s chest heaved for breath and he tensed and tightened. Kaidan couldn’t keep himself up on one arm anymore, so he leaned with his forearms braced under John’s shoulders and kept a hand cupping the back of John’s head, so he could feel his touch and know he was there.  
  
Once John calmed down, Kaidan began to move. He’d missed this, missed the way they fit together, missed the way John let down all his walls when he was getting fucked. He hadn’t clung so hard before, but then, they’d been through a lot… Kaidan buried his face in the short crop of hair John was growing, keeping close so John could feel his own ragged breaths hot over his skin. God, but it felt good to be inside him, grounded, _real_. John was bucking against his movements and Kaidan tried to keep his groaning quiet, but it was a wasted effort. John couldn’t tell how loud he was being. Kaidan pushed John’s face up against his neck, trying to muffle it, but John apparently took that as a signal to _bite him._ John’s teeth latched into his skin, he cried out, and then there was John’s tongue tracing a line up his neck and over his jawline. Kaidan laughed, breathlessly.  
  
"Guess you’ve got taste, not just touch —" Kaidan’s words caught on a half-suppressed moan. " _Fuck_ …smell, too, I guess.” He laughed, “Wonder what I smell like?”  
  
John was digging his fingernails into Kaidan’s scalp, clinging, clenching round him every time Kaidan pulled back. It was getting hard to breathe. Hard to keep steady and upright. John was mouthing something but forgetting to vocalize. Kaidan couldn’t understand him, but he could tell what he wanted. John was getting close to his edge, his body was telling Kaidan everything he needed to know.  
  
Kaidan shifted onto one arm again, reached his other hand between them, grabbed John’s cock and started stroking, catching it apace with the rolling of his hips. John cried out, pulsed in Kaidan’s hand. He was close, and Kaidan wasn’t far behind him. He turned his head, breathed, “I love you, John,” across his ear, though he knew John couldn’t hear him, and took the lobe between his lips and sucked it.  
  
John was writhing. Kaidan kissed his way down John’s neck, sucking gently, and reached his throat just as John crested. Kaidan _felt_ his yell of release, and he wanted John to feel his, too.  
  
His hand was covered in John’s seed but he didn’t _care_. He grabbed one of John’s hands out of his hair, pressed it up against his throat and held it there. He drove into John, pushing himself towards the edge and John was yelling out his name, and the edges of his vision were turning blue and he _flared_.  
  
Kaidan cried out, skin sparking blue. He pushed as deep inside of John as he could go and _released_.  
  
When it passed, he had to drop, lay down on top of John and breathe. Gasp for air. Shudder and pull himself back together.  
  
John was stroking his hair, soothingly, his legs gone weak but still entwined with Kaidan’s. Still clinging to him. “I love you, Kaidan,” he said.  
  
Kaidan got up on his arms again, cupping a hand on either side of John’s face. He kissed him, gently, and with one hand slowly wrote onto John’s cheek.  
  
_'love you'_  
  
John smiled against Kaidan’s lips, and his voice was unsteady. “Not gonna leave me, right?”  
  
Kaidan shook his head fiercely against John’s forehead, and wrote.  
  
_'never.'_

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Where are we going?” Shepard asked as Kaidan helped him into clothes that felt stiff and scratchy, and just a bit too big.

_‘memorial ceremony’_ Kaidan answered, once his hands were free.

“Ah. One of the only things the doctors’ll let me out for.” Shepard was getting cabin fever. He wanted _out,_ despite the fact that he seemed to have hit a plateau, and wasn’t getting any _better_ in any measurable sense. They wouldn’t tell him why. He was frustrated and _bored_ enough to start climbing the walls if his legs would cooperate. It was still tough to get around, and about a half hour’s worth of walking would wear him out. _Humanity’s strongest warrior, a deaf blind cripple. Nice._  

Kaidan pushed him in a wheelchair until they got out of the hospital. Then he had to use a cane and have Kaidan on his other side to make it down to the pickup zone. As they waited ( _‘car coming’_ Kaidan said), Shepard enjoyed feeling fresh air on his face for the first time in… a long time. The sun on his skin was warm, and a light breeze teased the still-short hair on his head. He leaned a bit on Kaidan and entertained himself trying to sort out all the smells there were; dirt and grass, smog and ozone from the city, baking stone and asphalt. Everything still smelled a little burned, and he wondered how the rebuilding was going after…After.

The car finally came, and by the smoothness of the ride and the feel of the engine, Shepard figured it was a skycar, not one of the old ground taxis London had still used—out of tradition—before the Reaper war. He wasn’t sure if they were taking it because it was faster, or if there just weren’t any roads left. He raised a hand up to feel the smoothness of the window, and asked aloud. “Kaidan? How long has it been since…”

He still couldn’t say it, but Kaidan knew what he meant. _‘six months’_

“Six months? Doesn’t feel like it’s been nearly that long.”

_‘you were out for most’_

Shepard fell silent a moment. It was hard to count how long he’d been awake. How long since… That. Kaidan squeezed his hand. “Six months is a long time to wait for a funeral,” he said.

_‘wanted you there’_

He leaned his head back against the seat. “Of course.”  He wondered what the view outside the window looked like. He hoped nobody expected him to make any speeches.

 

——————————————-

Kaidan guided them out of the car and past the slew of paparazzi he’d been warned about as fast as John could manage. A security barrier kept anyone from shoving a recorder in his face, but they still shouted questions and ran their cameras. The flash from a few of them lanced right into his eyes. Thankfully, John was oblivious, or nearly so. He must’ve felt the tension in Kaidan’s grip, because he asked “What’s wrong?” just as they got to the doors. Kaidan pressed his hand against the center of John’s chest a moment—their signal for ‘ _wait_ ’ and ‘ _safe_ ’ and ‘ _it’s okay’_ —and then took them inside. The din faded as soon as the doors closed behind them, and Kaidan reminded himself to chew somebody out later for the media circus.

“Cooler in here,” John commented as they made their way to the amphitheater. Kaidan hoped John wasn’t getting too cold. Between his weakened immune system and all the weight he’d lost in the past few months, catching a chill could be disastrous. A soldier in dress blues guided them to their seats—in the back, where they could remain relatively inconspicuous—and once they were settled Kaidan shucked off his own jacket and threw it over John’s shoulders. That earned him a put-upon look, but Kaidan sure as hell wasn’t going to lose the man to damned pneumonia after everything.

He took John’s hand, and started describing the scene to him. _‘big stage, all blue and white. one raised podium. not many people here yet, we are early.’_

“You always were punctual, K,” John quipped, but he sounded tired.

_‘you OK?’_ Kaidan asked.

John seemed to close in on himself, like he would when he was thinking. He was doing that more often these days. Kaidan put it down to John dealing with his injuries and the loss of his senses. He squeezed John’s hand encouragingly.

“…I’m alright,” John said after a moment. “Just…not sure how to feel about all this. Doesn’t seem quite real, I guess.” He grinned, briefly. “Maybe it’s the… I mean, I can’t _see_ anything, I can’t even people-watch. Hell, you could’ve brought me to a warehouse and I wouldn’t know.”

Kaidan frowned a little, and brought John’s hand up to his face. He kissed the palm, and then rested it against his cheek and shook his head.

“I know,” John sighed. “I trust you, K. I just… feel disconnected, I guess. Sorry.”

Kaidan shook his head again, then leaned his head in to rest his forehead against the side of John’s face. John leaned back, and they sat like that until the first speaker took the stage.

  
  
  


After the ceremony, there was a small banquet, mostly for fundraising. Kaidan and Shepard attended, because it was _expected_ , and because word was that some of the Normandy crew had been invited as well, and it would be good for John to see some friends. Well, not _see_ them, but…whatever. Security was tight, so there were only a few media hounds sniffing around the place, and they were smart enough to keep their distance after Kaidan shot them a few steel-melting glares. They would have to live with mere confirmation that Shepard was, indeed, alive. And speculate all they like about his condition, for now.

He left John in a seat on the side, near a potted plant he could smell, and went to fetch them some drinks. When he came back, however, he was surprised to see John wasn’t alone.  
  


————————————————

 

When the chair next to his shifted with the weight of someone settling into it, Shepard had known instantly that it wasn’t Kaidan. It didn’t _smell_ like Kaidan. “Hello,” he said, because what else would he do, really? Ignore them? That wouldn’t be polite, right? “If you’re here to talk to me, I’m afraid you have me at a disad—” and then whoever-it-was took his right hand. That was surprising, and meant it was someone who both knew how he needed to be ‘talked’ to, and who felt familiar enough with him to grab his hand without letting him finish talking. _Human hands, calloused mostly on the fingertips, no trigger-finger pattern. Who?_

_‘hey shepard’_ , the person wrote, slowly, to make sure he could read their letter forms. _‘its me. Best pilot in the galaxy’_

“Joker,” Shepard smiled. “How are you doing? How’s the ship?”

The grip on his hand tightened a bit, and the letters came slow, tracing hard over his palm like they might be cut into his skin. _‘EDI is gone’_  

Shepard felt his breath and heart seize up. He’d… known… _suspected_ , that that would happen when he… but he’d hoped they could _fix_ her, after. Maybe it had been a stupid hope — _idiot, of course it was a stupid hope —_ but… He turned his head away, unable to meet Joker’s eyes even if his eyes were sightless. “I’m… I’m sorry, Joker.” His voice grew tight. “I’m sorry…” _It’s my fault. I killed her._

But Joker was writing _‘forgive’_ in his palm.

He looked back, not _quite_ at the pilot.

_‘you stopped them. stopped the Reapers. if you hadnt we’_ he paused a second, possibly realizing that contractions didn’t work, _‘all be dead’_

Or maybe he stopped because there was a settling in the chair on Shepard’s other side and _that_ was definitely Kaidan. Shepard caught his cologne. Kaidan pressed a cool glass of something into Shepard’s free hand, and he brought it up and took a drink while Kaidan’s hand drifted to his shoulder. _Wine? Not bad. Kaidan would know quality._

Joker had stopped writing. He guessed he and Kaidan were conversing, and that gave Shepard a chance to calm the roiling in his gut. _The guilt monster, eating my insides. Like I deserve._

Nobody knew what really went on at the Crucible. Nobody but him. _The choice that I made. Those lives are on my head._

Really, there hadn’t been much of a choice. That’s what he tried to tell himself. Tried, and felt like he was failing.


	4. Chapter 4

Eighteen months after the end of the Reaper War, John Shepard sat alone on a park bench; outside, where he could feel the breeze and the sun on his face, could smell the grass and the faint water-scent of English bay, and the slightly-overdone hot dogs someone was probably selling out of a cart somewhere nearby. He still carried a cane but this one, they told him, was white.

They had done tests and therapies, brain scan after brain scan, even risked an operation to replace his fried cybernetics before the team of doctors finally admitted defeat.

John Shepard would never see again.

The jury was still out on his hearing, but the docs (transcribed through Kaidan) said that they still had a few “options” to try. And along with everything else, he'd been left with a lingering weakness in his muscles that they couldn't really explain; not well, not through the slow communication of letters and shorthand. It had something to do with how so much much of his tissue had been synthetic, and had been fried by whatever it was that had exploded, hit him, passed through him and then--

He pushed that memory away.

The brass had got him an honorable discharge and a pension that was frankly ludicrous, given the state of the galactic economy. But it ensured the hero of the galaxy would want for nothing in his life. Nothing with a monetary value, anyway...

His friends, his crew, were all gone. Joker and the Normandy were back in service, along with Sam and Karin. James was off to N7 training. Wrex and Grunt were heading back to Tuchanka. Garrus and Tali were out at the Charon relay, trying to fix it. The rest had drifted off, one after another. They had living to get back to, a galaxy to rebuild. There was always vid comms, once the extranet was back up, but...well. Without their touch, they might as well be imaginary. Memories of their faces were already fading.

They were gone. He was alone. Empty, broken, and alone.

… Well, not entirely alone.

The bench shifted with the weight of someone sitting down. He caught a scent of Kaidan’s cologne and smiled. “There you are,” he said, careful to vocalize properly.  
He held out his hand, and another hand--one that felt as familiar as his own skin and bones--slid into his and squeezed. Then it shifted and settled into the familiar ‘talking’ position. Other fingertips traveled across his shoulders, still as gentle as if he were made of glass even after all this time. Then lips, pressed against his temple. He felt the warmth of Kaidan’s body near--not quite pressed up against him, but close enough to feel. Close enough to feel the soft fabric of Kaidan’s jacket against his own bare arm.

_Hi_ , Kaidan said.

“Hi yourself.” Shepard turned his head, slowly so Kaidan could tell he was doing it (they figured that trick out after a few too many bashed heads and bruised noses), and tilted his chin up for the proper, brief kiss Kaidan gave his lips. “Where’d you go? Thought you stood me up.”

Kaidan’s lips pressed back up to Shepard’s forehead and curved up in a smile. _Never. Had to get something._

“I hope it’s not one of those hot dogs,” Shepard grinned, “they don’t smell reputable.”

Kaidan shook his head against Shepard’s, and then his talking hand disappeared for a moment. When it returned, it pressed a small, cool, round, metal something into his palm.

"What’s this?" Shepard asked, and took the circle… band… _ring_ , into his fingers. There were no gemstones, no wire-work, just simple metal… or not so simple. The past eighteen months had softened his fingertips, had increased his tactile perception as he learned to see with his hands. There were patterns engraved into the outside of the ring; waves and whorls, a slight rise-and-fall pattern of thickness in the band itself, and on the inside a line of tiny dots that he had to concentrate for several moments to read--Braille was still something he was working on.

It said: _Always_.

Shepard felt his heart jump a few times. He sent a crooked, nervous smile in Kaidan’s direction. “You proposing, Kaidan?” he asked in a tease. And it had to be a tease, because he couldn’t possibly…

Kaidan’s weight and presence shifted, moving from beside him to in front of him. Kaidan’s hands enfolded his and guided his fingers to curl around the ring. Shepard felt Kaidan’s lips press against his knuckles, felt Kaidan’s leg brush against his own as he -- Oh.

Kaidan was down on one knee. John forgot how to breathe.

Kaidan turned both John’s hands over. One still held the ring, the other turned palm-up, waiting Kaidan’s talking fingertips. But he barely got started before John choked out, “Kaidan…”. His voice felt shaky, throat pinching, not sure if he’d made sound or just an exhaled breath.

Kaidan’s lips still pressed against his knuckles, and he said, _Would you do me the honor--_

“Wait,” Shepard exhaled. He stopped Kaidan’s wrist with the thumb and index finger of his other hand. “Wait… Kaidan--” his throat caught again. _‘Shit, Shepard, don’t start crying.’_ “Are you sure? I… I mean… when I’m like ** _this_** …”

Kaidan’s free hand moved up, and cupped the side of John’s face. He felt the pad of Kaidan’s thumb brush across his cheekbone. Into John’s hand he said, _Always._

_Remember that I love you. Always._

Fuck. He was crying. He was pretty certain he was shaking.

_John,_ Kaidan said, _You are worth it. You are worth everything._ Then he stopped for a moment, and John could imagine Kaidan’s face with that nervous but determined expression, his eyes looking golden in the light, almost as clear as if he could see it. _Will you--?_

John didn’t let him finish. In an instant he was half-off the bench, arms tight around Kaidan, the ring still clutched in one hand and the other dug into Kaidan’s soft, thick hair.

“I love you,” he choked out near Kaidan’s earlobe, making certain the sound traveled through his chest and throat. And then, he breathed out, _“Yes.”_


	5. Chapter 5

_Flash flash flash flash flash_

John groaned and flailed to smack off the alarm. He let his hand slide off the smooth wood night-table and rubbed his face into his pillowcase. The bed was cold, which meant that Kaidan had gotten up godawful early again. John sighed, pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He rubbed his face, rubbed the gunk out of his eyes and blinked until they didn't feel gross anymore. Ran his hands over his hair and grimaced at the bed-head. He couldn't wait until he could shave it all off again. Mrs. Alenko -- _Sara,_ he reminded himself -- had absolutely refused to let him, said she wanted "pretty wedding pictures". He sighed. As eternally-grateful John was to his future mother-in-law, she could sometimes be a lot to handle.

He felt over the nightstand down to the drawer, cracked it open and got his "ears" out. The hearing aids didn't really help that much, turning a silent world into one full of eerie whispers and murmurs, but it made him feel better knowing that if there was a scream, explosion or loud warning alarm, he'd be able to hear it.

He padded across the room into the bathroom he and Kaidan shared and ran his hand up the sink counter to grab his comb. Kaidan's natural fastidiousness had turned out to be extremely helpful with their new living arrangements. Everything had a place. Kaidan's stuff was on the right side of the sink and John's were on the left, nearer the door and where he wouldn't accidentally knock them into the toilet if he missed the counter.

He ran the comb through his hair until it felt presentable then set it carefully back down. They used to keep all his stuff in a cup on the corner of the sink, but he'd kept knocking it over and losing things. So instead they’d just designated “left side of the sink” as his. He wasn't nearly as particular as Kaidan. As long as something stayed in the same general area it was supposed to be so he could find it, he was happy.

He picked up his toothbrush and held his thumb over the bristles while he carefully pressed the cartridge to distribute the right amount of paste. It took a bit longer than usual to feel the toothpaste touch his thumb. The supply must be getting low. He'd have to message Sam--who’d given him the brush as a present a few months ago--to find out where he could get replacements for it here on Earth. Her dentistry-related gifts were kind of weird, but he had to admit the automatic brush was a lot easier than trying to do it manually and getting the toothpaste all over the sink. Which was what he had been doing. Kaidan, he knew, was grateful to no longer have that mess to clean.

He finished up, washed his face and walked out and down the hall towards the kitchen, following the scent of apples. It was harvest season and half the house had a constant apple-smell about it while Sara cooked up batches of homemade apple sauce and cider for various charities, and for the household, and because she enjoyed it. She was old-fashioned like that. Old-fashioned, like the bubbled wallpaper in the hall that John liked to run his hand across while he walked. He didn't need to follow the walls anymore to get around the house, he just liked the way the texture felt under his fingers.

The floor beneath his feet transitioned from carpet to hardwood as he stepped into the kitchen. A soft clattering noise greeted him -- Sara working in the kitchen -- and the scent of frying bacon overpowered the constant apple smell. John crossed the floor to his chair at the kitchen table and sat down. A moment later Sara’s footfalls bumped the floor and John felt her arm go around his shoulders in a friendly, one-armed hug. She still smelled like apples. He waved toward her and signed “Good morning.” He didn't talk much these days. It was hard when you couldn't hear yourself.

Sara scraped a chair over and sat beside him. She tapped his shoulder affectionately, then slid a hand under his raised, waiting one, the other settling on his knee. _“Good Morning!"_ she signed enthusiastically into his hand. _"Are you ready for next week?”_

_“No,”_ he signed back, and shook his head wryly.

Sara’s free hand clutched his thigh in reassurance. _“You’ll be FINE.”_

_“Why do we have to do it in front of everyone? Why not here at home?”_

_“PR”_ Sara said, rubbing his leg sympathetically. _“You know. Everyone needs --”_ she hesitated, searching for the word, then spelled out _“DISTRACTION.”_

John exhaled heavily. Sara patted his knee again and got up out of her seat. A moment later, the scent of hot tea wafted over a second before Sara’s hands took his and guided them to the warm, steaming mug. He hummed in thanks and held the mug up to his lips, blowing gently to cool off the liquid before taking a sip.

Heavy, booted footfalls vibrated the hardwood floor beneath John’s feet. A quick tap-pattern on the back of his chair accompanied the strangely woodsy smell that heralded his fiance’s arrival. John smiled to himself as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind and a scruffy, stubbled cheek rubbed the side of his face. John turned his head to meet the kiss as Kaidan slid his hands down John’s arms, then to his hands to talk.

_“You smell like a forest,”_ John signed.

Kaidan smiled against his lips. _“You don’t like it?”_

_“Are you going full lumberjack on me?”_ John smiled back, and gently rubbed noses with him.

Kaidan leaned down a bit behind him and kissed at his nape. It was a somewhat awkward conversation position but they were … acclimated to it. John smirked to himself. _“I’m not active-duty anymore,”_ Kaidan was signing, grinning against his neck, _“I can do what I want.”_ Certainly Kaidan’s new job teaching biotic kids the very basics of their abilities had a much looser dress code than the military. And Kaidan seemed happier doing it. A lot happier.

John reached back to rub the back of a hand against Kaidan’s fuzzy cheek, signing with the other. _“Maybe you can play Santa for the kids this year.”_

_“Don’t give my mother ideas!”_ Kaidan signed frantically.

John laughed, turned and leaned back for another kiss. He laughed easily these days, easier than he had since before the War. It was … nice.

Kaidan slid around John’s chair to sit beside him, keeping a hand on him the whole way. He’d gotten good at that--good at keeping contact and at doing a variety of things one-handed. John ducked his head and grinned at a particular memory _that_ brought up.

_“You should eat,”_ Kaidan signed, one-handed, and gently bumped his shoulder.

John shook his head. _“I have tea. That’s enough.”_

Kaidan nudged his face against John’s neck, specifically so that John could feel his ‘pouting face.’

He laughed and nudged Kaidan back. _“I **will** eat later. Promise.”_

Kaidan frowned against his cheek, then exhaled a puff of air that tickled John’s skin. _“OK.”_ He kissed John’s temple and pulled away, needing both his hands to manage his breakfast, which smelled good enough that John regretted that he couldn't keep anything down before noon. Kaidan kept his leg pressed up against John’s though, so that John would know that he was there.

John nursed his tea, sat and listened to the fractured noises of Sara clattering around the kitchen, to the low almost-sounds of her and Kaidan’s voices. Too quiet for John to understand. Murmurs in the dark. The heat of Kaidan’s body next to him felt more tangible, more real. Solid. Kaidan touched him with his hands every so often, an almost nervous habit he’d picked up. John figured it was Kaidan’s way of trying to make him feel included in the conversations that he couldn’t hear or see. It was a little ridiculous. A bit overbearing at times (“overbearing” seemed to be an Alenko genetic trait). But John appreciated the sentiment. It made him feel less isolated. More accepted as part of the family.

_Family._ In about a week he really would, legally, be part of the Alenko family. The thought made him feel warm all over, light-headed and giddy with nerves. Family. _Home._

He touched Kaidan’s knee and said, “Hey.” Aloud. Feeling the rumble in his chest and the rusty strain of his rarely-used vocal cords.

He felt Kaidan freeze and the kitchen went silent. Felt Kaidan turn toward him, felt Kaidan’s hand press into his palm with his index finger crooked into a question sign.

John took his hand, traced his free hand up that arm and up his neck. Ghosted his fingers gently across Kaidan’s face, seeing him. Kaidan’s eyebrows were furrowed. Worrying, always worrying. He kissed the divot the expression made in Kaidan’s forehead. He ran his hand down, and gently rubbed his thumb over Kaidan’s lips, feeling him smile. “I love you,” he breathed.

Kaidan kissed his thumb. His free hand traveled up to tickle the hairs at the back of John's neck. And he signed back, _"I love you too."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shuffles feet* it's Finish Your WIPs year, right? Anyway ... 
> 
> Shepard and Kaidan are using Tactile Sign, which is really cool. You can learn more about it and other methods that deafblind individuals use to communicate with at www.aadb.org (in the US) or deafblind.com (in the UK). The specific style of sign presented in this story is Pro-Tactile, which can be seen at protactile.org . Sara is using a combination of tactile sign and tactile fingerspelling, and in previous chapters they were using print-on-palm block letter spelling. 
> 
> Wedding chapter next. Woogh.


	6. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I will love you until every star burns out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up three years late with starbucks* ...i know, man, i'm just as surprised as you. better late than never i guess, right? here, [have a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/corvidusrex/playlist/4VbfHFIPUu7vJ8Xy4srzIS). Alternatively, just listen to "Silhouettes" by Of Monsters And Men on repeat for this entire chapter.

The day was perfect. The weather was warm and clear with a gentle breeze. The trees were in full bloom and filled the air with the scent of flowers. The massive windows of the old wood-and-stone building had been thrown open to let in the air and light. Called-in favors and the remote location kept the press far away. And there had been no disasters except the insignificant and momentary type, caused by excitement and nerves and many people who had not seen each-other in some time gathering in one place.

 

Kaidan peeked around a doorway and smiled at the sight that greeted him. John--flanked by his interpreter-slash-escort, Daniel--was talking with Garrus. The turian rested one taloned hand on John’s shoulder and was speaking too low for Kaidan to make out. Whatever it was, it made John light up in laughter.

 

“Hey, hey, no looking at the bride before the wedding!” a voice said suddenly. Kaidan startled. Joker grasped his shoulder, pulled him away from the door, and tutted at him. “That’s bad luck, you know?” he teased.

 

“Hey, Joker,” Kaidan smiled as Joker fussed over his tie. He was a little concerned that his combat awareness had atrophied so bad that Joker, with his heavy limping stride, had managed to sneak up on him. He had an excuse to be distracted, he supposed. It wasn’t every day you married the love of your life. “Why is John the bride? I figured it’d be me.”

 

“Shepard’s walking second,” Joker pointed out. “That makes him the bride.”

 

“Well, technically neither of us are _brides…_ ”

 

“You’re showing a real disrespect for tradition here, Major.”

 

Kaidan laughed. “Sorry. I just...this hardly seems real, you know? I never thought…” he trailed off as the weight of his thoughts settled on him. “I mean, with everything...it feels impossible that we got this far.”

 

“Please,” Joker scoffed. “Impossible is Shepard’s middle name. And the two of you have been moving towards this since 2183.” He emphatically poked Kaidan in the middle of his chest.

  


Kaidan rubbed his chest, thought of all the moments they had lived through that led up to this one. There were so many times he’d nearly lost John...a couple where he actually did lose him, for a while. So many impossibilities, so many times either one of them could have failed to make it through. He looked at Joker, guiltily thinking of all the ones who hadn’t made it though...but then he pushed away the shadow of old memories. Today wasn’t about the past, it was about the future.  

 

Hesitantly, with the caution of a man entering a minefield, he asked Joker, “So...how is your new girlfriend? Mary, was it?”

 

“Maria,” he corrected. There was a momentary flick of pain, of grief the man still carried, and then it cleared and he smiled bright as anything. “She’s… good. She’s good. You’ll see her at the ceremony. She started crying when she heard about that hand thing.”

 

“Oh god, I hope that goes alright,” Kaidan anxiously exhaled in a rush.

 

“It will, don’t worry about it.” Joker took him by the shoulder and started leading him away. “Come on, let’s go let Tali know you found her wandering husband.”  

  


\-----

  


“I still can’t believe you and Tali eloped,” John said, aloud. His throat scratched with the effort, but for some people he considered it worth it.

 

The taloned hand on his shoulder squeezed. _“Well, you know how it is,”_ Garrus ‘said’ -- interpreted through Daniel’s signing hand below John’s own. _“You spend a long time in very small maintenance tunnels with someone and things just grow…”_

 

“Romantic,” John said sarcastically.

 

 _“I have been accused of that a time or two.”_ Garrus jiggled John’s shoulder in amusement. _“But seriously; after the war, and the miracle of making it through all that in mostly one piece, it felt stupid to wait any longer.”_

 

“I know what you mean. I’m not sure how I lasted so long myself,” John smiled.

 

They talked for a while about work on the relay system, about the development of Rannoc and the rebuilding of Palaven, about old friends and comrades and how they were doing, what they were up to, about Wrex’s dozen kids and the old crew’s ongoing efforts to keep Liara from becoming a hermit. Jack’s students. Zaeed’s adventures. Samantha’s latest relationship troubles.

 

And they talked about how Tali was developing a tactile long-range communication system so that everyone could talk with John without having to use a go-between, and that’s when John started choking up.

 

Garrus gripped his shoulder bracingly. His talons made dents in John’s skin. _“We’re glad you’re still here, Shepard.”_

 

He swallowed down emotion that threatened to crack him open. “I’m glad you’re all still here, too.”

 

\-----

 

Shepard made his way down the aisle, Daniel’s hand on his elbow. The floor below him had a bit of give to it, like some kind of wood, and the air was slightly chilly and smelled of stone. The air smelled faintly of crisp air and blossoms -- flowering trees, maybe, or floral arrangements in the building. He wore his hearing aids, but there was nothing but a lonely hush around him. He hadn’t looked forward to this particular part of the ceremony. He’d never expected himself to be the one walking down the aisle to meet his groom at the altar (not that he was complaining), and his inability to see the ceremony he was in let him feeling isolated. At least he didn’t have to be nervous about watching people stare at him. He had never liked that, before. He resigned himself to keeping up appearances and focused on counting his steps. There would be short stairs up to the raised stage of the altar and he did not want to stumble--

 

And then he nearly did stumble. He had felt a hand on his elbow, the one not being steadied and held to keep him moving. It was only a brief touch, there and gone in a heartbeat. But then there was another. And another. And another. Contact after contact, some light and fleeting and momentary and others giving his arm or hand or shoulder a gentle squeeze as he moved past them. A hundred lives reaching out to him, making their presence known, telling him they all were there. For _him._

 

He had to breathe slow and careful to keep the tears from showing up early.

 

It was one, two, three steps up onto the stage. Daniel guided him forward until it was Kaidan’s hands touching him, their shape the most familiar things in his world. He knew their gentle fingertips, their work-rough knuckles and calloused palms, their collection of small, smooth scars, better than he knew his own body. They touched his face for a heartbeat, then slid down his arm and led him a few more steps. The two of them turned into their places; John and Kaidan facing each-other, one hand interlinked, the other reached out to the side and met by the officiants’, who would be signing the ceremony. John knew they would be speaking the ceremony as well, for the witnesses. He had expected it to feel as if they were the only people in the world in that moment, but the ghosts of a hundred lives reaching out to touch him lingered. He was not, was never, alone. He was not, was never, forgotten. He could not help his smile.

 

_“Dear and beloved ones, we gather together here today to celebrate in the joining of two souls…”_

 

John tuned it out, instead running his thumb over Kaidan’s knuckles. Repetitive, slow, self-calming. Kaidan raised their hands and placed John’s hand on his own face and let him trace the soft curve of his smile. John smiled back, reclaimed their hands and kissed the knuckle he’d been stroking.

 

And then, Kaidan began to sign.

 

 _“John Shepard.”_  John felt Kaidan laugh, a huff of hot air across his face. He lifted his free hand to Kaidan’s face to trace the shape of his smile, the crinkles of laughter around his eyes. _“You,”_ Kaidan continued, _“are the best and most amazing thing I could ever have imagined happening to me. The moment you walked into my life, I was changed. And I’m not talking about just the obvious stuff.”_ Kaidan smiled at that, and John echoed it. _“God knows we’ve already been through better and worse, sickness and health...even death._

 

 _“But through it all, despite it all, my life was always,_ **_always_ ** _better for having you in it. You’re like a sun giving out your light and your warmth to everyone around you -- yes, even now,”_ he added at John’s reflexive grimace.   _“You give so freely and so fully you would burn yourself to ash if no one was around to bring you back down to earth._

 

_“You became my guiding light, my hope for a brighter day, my inspiration and my comfort. And to you I vow this:_

 

_“I will be your shade, your place to return to when you burn too bright, when you need grounding. I will be your safe harbor, your soft landing. If you will have me, I vow to be your shelter. Because I love you. I loved you when you were too bright to see, when you were a sunrise, and as you waxed and waned, even when you were nothing more than a flickering candle-light defiantly refusing to go out. I have always loved you, and I always will.”_

  
  


John fought not to cry. “Damn, how am I going to compete with that?” he joked, hands and voice shaky. He felt Kaidan smile and barely fought down the urge to kiss him.

  


“ _Kaidan_ … you, you called my your guiding light. But you have always been my north star. Whenever I lost my way, whenever things were hard and murky and I couldn't find what path to take, I always… I would think of you, and then suddenly everything was clear again.

 

“You are my beating heart, the blood in my veins and the breath in my lungs, and I would not be standing here if not for you. I could never imagine someone like you, someone who is so _good_ , and selfless, and … and I don’t think I will ever believe myself worthy of you. No, don’t argue,” he smiled, feeling Kaidan shake his head. “You make me a better person, just by being yourself. And I can’t believe I’m so lucky. You know every one of my scars and you love me anyway.

 

“You’re my _home._ My reason to keep going. With everything that I’ve faced, that we’ve faced together and apart, you’ve been the thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other when I can barely manage to raise my head. You’re what makes my life … what makes it light and warm and worth hanging on to.

 

“I will never be able to think myself worthy of you. But I love you, Kaidan. And I will love you until every star burns out. I will love you with every breath and pulse that I have until the molecules and stardust that we are gets scattered and consumed in the heat death of the universe, and _even then_ , I will still love you.

 

“I vow to do everything in my power to make you happy. To love you faithfully with everything I am. Whatever I have to give I offer freely, even my weakness… because I love you, always. **_Always.”_ **

 

John wasn’t sure he’d even vocalized that last part, could feel his voice threading down to a whisper. But it didn’t matter. They crashed together, lips and breath and hands and lives and souls entangling. The stomping of a hundred pairs feet against the floor shook the very building with their approval. He gave up the fight and let the tears flow free.  

  
  
  


Later on, they danced barefoot across a hardwood floor that carried music so well that John could feel nearly every note. And he let himself be incandescent and smile until his face hurt, and he let himself reach out for friends and family and loved ones and feel the mass of them around him. He let himself cling to Kaidan, and he let himself let go and knew that he would be back. Knew that he’d slot himself back right at John’s side. Where he had always been. They had always fit together. And John felt something settle in him. Something warm and solid, like a ship docking at home after a long, cold journey through the dark. He had his people. He had his partner at his side. He was here. He was home.

 

He was happy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd finish this. It all started as a sensory experiment, just an idea, "how would I write if I couldn't use sight or sound?" Since I posted the first installment of deafblind!shepard on tumblr I have: 
> 
> -actually played the games  
> -learned a lot more about writing  
> -gone through several extremely large life changes  
> -promised myself multiple times that I'd finish this eventually. eventually. 
> 
> It has been a journey. Thanks for everything.


End file.
